Super Stitions
The Taiwanese, presumably on account of their being somewhat Asian, are a rather superstitious lot. A number of social-cum-cultural taboos exist, which usually confuse the snot out of the foreigners. No doubt it's some sort of conspiracy to keep us on our toes while we teach their small people to read and write. Some island-of-Taiwanarnia superstitions [note: they tend to centre around the not-so-Disney topic of Death]...
1) While it's perfectly acceptable to pick your nose in public (I'm sure Martha Stewart would have some choice bits of advice on *what* to do with the bits you nasally excavated), cries of "Eeeeeeeeeeew teacher!" can be heard for miles around any time one thoughtfully puts the back of one's pen in one's mouth. I fail to understand how the sight of me with my red pen in my mouth for a few seconds as I turn the page to seek out yet another missing indefinite article is more of an egregious sight then a Taiwanese granny squatting in her shopdoor entrance with her index finger up her nostril, not-so-gently stroking her frontal lobe through the front of her face...
2) When you order chicken chow mein at the Western equivalent of a Chinese take-out, no one ever mentions how to use the chopsticks. In the West you can get away with fumbling with your food. But in Taiwan you could mortally offend someone's entire family, including two centuries of now-dead ancestors, as well as pets, deceased, eaten or otherwise, by placing your chopsticks in an inauspicious manner. Thusly, never ever stand 'em upright in a bowl of rice. Apparently, this symbolises Death. And the thought of looming Death is sure to soften the taste of even the most delicious bowl of rice with chicken intestines [yum yum, glum glum]. If you must stand your chopsticks erect, insert them in a bowl of pudding. This is deemed less offensive, although far sillier.
3) As much as possible, avoid the number 4. In Chinese, the word for 'four' sounds quite similar to the word for, you guessed it, Death. There is, for example, no number 4 bus in Taipei. In fact, the superstition regarding 'Four equals Death' is taken so far that buildings don't have fourth floors [apparently some Buddhas dressed in black waistcoats come by in the middle of the night and steal them just after the building has been completed, before the tenants take occupation]. Of course, avoiding the number is rather impossible. Kinda like rice with chicken intestines.
I propose we all just start referring to 'four' as 'three plus one', and as 'six minues two' on High Holy Days like Yom Kippur, Rammadan, Easter, New Year's Day and Walt Disney's Birthday.
4) And finally, the point of this ramblement: currently Taiwan's president, Mr Chen-Shui Bien (sp?) is in Political Hot Water over a series of corruption scandals involving members of his family. Now, Taiwan is rife with corruption, and the Asian way is very ostrichy, viz 'So long as I can't see, hear, feel, smell, touch, taste or intuit it, it doesn't exist. Whew!'. But the scandal has reached epic proportions with thousands of people marching to the president's residence on the weekend to call for his resignation. It's reached such fever pitch that...on Friday I was warned by the manager of my school not to wear green, the colour of Mr Pres' party, for fear of being beaten up, harassed, harangued and otherwise mistreated.
I can see the folk at Taiwan Marie Claire now. Panicking in their Vivienne Westwoods. Black ones, mind you. Just in case.
1) While it's perfectly acceptable to pick your nose in public (I'm sure Martha Stewart would have some choice bits of advice on *what* to do with the bits you nasally excavated), cries of "Eeeeeeeeeeew teacher!" can be heard for miles around any time one thoughtfully puts the back of one's pen in one's mouth. I fail to understand how the sight of me with my red pen in my mouth for a few seconds as I turn the page to seek out yet another missing indefinite article is more of an egregious sight then a Taiwanese granny squatting in her shopdoor entrance with her index finger up her nostril, not-so-gently stroking her frontal lobe through the front of her face...
2) When you order chicken chow mein at the Western equivalent of a Chinese take-out, no one ever mentions how to use the chopsticks. In the West you can get away with fumbling with your food. But in Taiwan you could mortally offend someone's entire family, including two centuries of now-dead ancestors, as well as pets, deceased, eaten or otherwise, by placing your chopsticks in an inauspicious manner. Thusly, never ever stand 'em upright in a bowl of rice. Apparently, this symbolises Death. And the thought of looming Death is sure to soften the taste of even the most delicious bowl of rice with chicken intestines [yum yum, glum glum]. If you must stand your chopsticks erect, insert them in a bowl of pudding. This is deemed less offensive, although far sillier.
3) As much as possible, avoid the number 4. In Chinese, the word for 'four' sounds quite similar to the word for, you guessed it, Death. There is, for example, no number 4 bus in Taipei. In fact, the superstition regarding 'Four equals Death' is taken so far that buildings don't have fourth floors [apparently some Buddhas dressed in black waistcoats come by in the middle of the night and steal them just after the building has been completed, before the tenants take occupation]. Of course, avoiding the number is rather impossible. Kinda like rice with chicken intestines.
I propose we all just start referring to 'four' as 'three plus one', and as 'six minues two' on High Holy Days like Yom Kippur, Rammadan, Easter, New Year's Day and Walt Disney's Birthday.
4) And finally, the point of this ramblement: currently Taiwan's president, Mr Chen-Shui Bien (sp?) is in Political Hot Water over a series of corruption scandals involving members of his family. Now, Taiwan is rife with corruption, and the Asian way is very ostrichy, viz 'So long as I can't see, hear, feel, smell, touch, taste or intuit it, it doesn't exist. Whew!'. But the scandal has reached epic proportions with thousands of people marching to the president's residence on the weekend to call for his resignation. It's reached such fever pitch that...on Friday I was warned by the manager of my school not to wear green, the colour of Mr Pres' party, for fear of being beaten up, harassed, harangued and otherwise mistreated.
I can see the folk at Taiwan Marie Claire now. Panicking in their Vivienne Westwoods. Black ones, mind you. Just in case.